Built To Fall
by sansbear
Summary: It only took seven months to unravel who Bonnie had been for the past four years. Her time alone, and her subsequent return, awaken possibilities that will forever alter the relationships that shaped her for years. Quasi-sequel to 'Lonely Routes'.
1. Sugar

A/N: Wanted to do something a little different. Enjoy!

* * *

><p>A Life In The Day<p>

Bonnie felt him outside.

She stood in the moonlit foyer and watched the door. She listened to the wind rushing through the trees, rattling the house. Weird shapes trembled and shook in the shadows. She waited for the feeling to subside, to be released from the dream that led her from her bed to standing in the dark, in the cold, staring at the front door, but it was stubborn and only tightened its hold.

She felt him outside the door, waiting. She felt him inhale, like he once did against her neck, her chest, her stomach, the inside of her thighs. She felt his fingertips touch the grain of the door, like when he brushed them over her clavicle, down her back, along her side.

Sweat tickled the small of her back. It wasn't a dream.

Bonnie opened the door. He stood there, in half shadows. She expected him closer, close enough to reach and pull inside but he was exactly beyond her reach.

"I thought we agreed," she said.

The blueness of his eyes seemed to leech away the longer he looked at her. Bonnie shifted. She could never stay long under that heat lamp look.

"I never agreed to anything," he said.

"Your acceptance was implied when you stood there and said nothing."

"I'm standing here now. What does that tell you?"

"That you're late," Bonnie said, irritated.

He only smiled, but it wasn't his normal smile, it wasn't easy, it wasn't nice or cruel or mocking. It was a smile that did things to her. It was a smile that knew things about her, that told her things she didn't know, reminded her of things she forgot.

Truths started fleeing her mind, leaving her with impulse. She wanted him, yes, that was the only true thing left. She wanted to let go of the door and step out into the warm darkness and touch him. She wanted to breathe him in and feel his hands all over. She wanted to be wedged against the wall, she wanted to fall to the ground with the umbrella holder and the fern and the mail basket and taste if he had blood or brandy or both for dinner. She wanted the rug burn and a bruise from the stair and tousled sheets and slick skin. She wanted him more now than when she never had him, even more than when she discovered how much he liked a good nip and where.

Bonnie looked away, but her mind continued to empty save for all those wants. She closed her eyes. In the back of her head this display disgusted her. Was this all it really took, a strange smile under livid blue eyes on a warm, moonlit night, to unravel her completely? Did this thing between them trump all the promises she made to herself?

Bonnie cracked open an eye. He stared at her. Impatience made his jaw tick. Or was it the same kind of want? Anger maybe, at her indecision? Anxiety? His jaw ticked again, his eyes wouldn't let up. She had to do something or else ruin everything.

"Fine," she said.

She left the doorway and kissed him. It was hard and breathless and desperate. She poured everything into it, every embrace they might have had, every slow encounter, every angry fuck, every single pleasurably painful moment that could have existed between them she gave to his mouth, she traced along his jawline, she combed through his hair and ran down his back. She gave it all away in a kiss that exposed every nerve ending.

And then she stopped. She pressed her hand to his mouth and the other to his heart. She saw through the open door to the foyer, the darkened staircase. She was up against a post beam, his hips pressed into hers, and if she didn't tap into some magic to numb herself, she wouldn't have had the fortitude to stop.

Bonnie gazed into his eyes. He frowned. His hand came up to circle her wrist but she shook her head.

"Listen to me. I need you to listen to me."

He sighed, but dropped his hand.

"I like you. I like your face and your voice and your walk and those ugly faces you make when someone does something you don't agree with or you do agree with, but is inconvenient to you. I like you despite the horrible things you've done. I like you in spite of myself. And I want you," Bonnie said, dropping her voice, "I can't deny that. And it would be so good, me and you, but then the sun rises and the weekend ends and everything is right where we left it."

"Nothing has changed, Damon. No matter what happens, we'll always come close, but not close enough. And that's not what I want. I want," Bonnie sighed, "I want more. I want everything."

She lifted her hands away. They stared at each other for a long time before Damon finally expelled a breath and leaned away. Air rushed between them, cooling their bodies. Bonnie watched him but he closed off his face. His only remaining tell was the hand resting on one hip, black fabric twisted in his fingers.

"What about what I want?"

Bonnie rested her head against the beam. "I cost too much."

"But I don't."

"Exactly. You don't."

Damon shook his head. The smile this time was easy to read.

"I think you might have edged out Katherine for the Ultimate Mindfuck Award," he said.

Bonnie shrugged. "Considering your penchant for doppelgangers, I think I place a distant third."

She held his glare. His words rang in her ear. She'll always exist between us. I can't shake her. You won't let me.

Damon blinked first. He started to speak but then pressed his lips together and left the porch.

Bonnie didn't turn. She stared at the open door as his car rumbled down the road. It stopped ten seconds longer than necessary at the Stop sign. If she looked, he would come back. There was no magic in the world that would prevent her from going with him. It was so simple a fact that it disturbed her. She didn't know if simple meant right.

She pushed off the beam and walked into the house. After a moment, she shut the door and leaned against it. Just breathe, Bonnie told herself, just breathe through it. It was only a moment. Moments don't last forever. She wiped her eyes, shook herself hard, and climbed the stairs to the bedroom.

The dark turned to cool blue by the time she pulled the covers up. She watched the sun begin its ascent, which reminded her of that one time when they had that conversation. Her head had lain on his chest and she listened to his voice echo through his flesh. He smelled of pine and woodsmoke, and he tasted of salt.

Bonnie squeezed her eyes shut. God, this wasn't forever, right? She couldn't just purge this, put in a box, and burn it?

Arms came around her, hooking under her chest and over her hips. Bonnie relaxed into the hold. Kai was warm and soft from sleep. His lips were dry as he kissed her ear.

"You're up too early. Bad dream?"

Bonnie weighed the benefits of telling him now rather than later. He would understand, sure, but his reactions varied. Better to get it over with.

"Damon came by. We talked."

He pressed his nose into her neck. "You guys only argue or makeup. So which was it?"

Bonnie squinted. "Uh...more of the latter."

"Well," Kai said after awhile, "no wonder you're all hot and bothered."

"You're being eerily calm," Bonnie said. She turned in his arms to look at him. He had his eyes closed.

"What would you like me to do? Go postal? Start leaving angry voicemails?"

"I don't know. It makes me think that maybe you're still asleep or something and that later, when you realize we have no coffee, you're going to explode and start plotting to kill people."

Kai patted her head with a smile. "I love it how well you know me. It's refreshing."

"But really, it doesn't bother you? Damon was here. On the porch. I kissed him. We kissed. This is big news. Huge."

"It is huge news. Massive. Earth-shattering," he opened his eyes and looked at her with a genuine smile. "You kissed him and told me about it."

Bonnie frowned. "So?"

"So," Kai rolled on top of her, ignoring the little 'oof' she emitted. "You like me more than you like him," he said.

Bonnie squirmed. "No. I tolerate you more."

"No," he kissed her cheek, "you like me more. You might even really like me." He scrunched his nose. "Oh my God, you might l-o-v-e me."

"Calm down. L-o-v-e is a few thousand miles away."

"Last week you said a few hundred thousand." Kai winked at her. "Face it, babe. You are in deep."

Bonnie flipped them over. "Before you get all excited, there's still an issue."

"I know. The lack of coffee."

"No. Damon."

Bonnie stared down at his face. Kai squinted at the ceiling. He already solved the issue, then. She sighed and folded her hands under her chin, digging her elbows into his chest. He winced.

"See, this is why I can't muster up the energy to love you. You are so damn annoying."

"I can't help being quick." He pulled her up so that her elbows rested on his shoulders. "I'll ask, you answer. Right off the top of your head."

Bonnie nodded, serious. "Okay, shoot."

"What does Damon want?"

"Love."

"Who loves him more than anyone?"

"Stefan."

Kai paused. "I should rephrase the question. Who is the person, other than Stefan, that is 'Addicted to Love' in love with Damon?"

"Oh, Elena."

"Does he love her?"

"Epically."

"What happened to change that epic love?"

"We died, got stuck in Groundhog 1994, and Elena flossed all the fluffy Damon bits from her memory."

"Who did that again?"

"Alaric. When he was an Original." He looked at her, confused. "Vampire. An Original vampire. They're like," Bonnie grasped for a point of reference, "like Super Saiyan Vampires."

"Ah," Kai nodded, "too cool. So an Original vampire wiped Romeo and left Iago. But what about now?"

"Alaric can't de-compel her because he's human, but Elena is slowly falling in love with Damon. Slowly," Bonnie said, drawing out the word.

"And that's bad because?"

"Because Damon is impatient. And he's bored. And I'm something new and not-so shiny and I look like the real thing and I feel like the real thing, but I'm not."

"So what does Damon want?"

Bonnie stared at him. "The real thing."

"And who is -"

"Elena," Bonnie interrupted, getting up. "He wants Elena. The Elena before. But is it possible?" She looked at him but she didn't see him. Her mind whirled through a catalogue of incantations, remedies, curses. Not that one, no, no, maybe, no, closer, no, no, no.

He snapped his fingers. "Bonnie, Kai to Bonnie, come in."

She grabbed his hand to stop from waving. "It's there but I only found one that may work. I can get it smoothed out in a day."

"No need," Kai sat up and took her hands. "I know a spell. But it's a two-person carry."

Bonnie watched him carefully. They never shared power. He didn't need to leech anymore but that didn't stop the thirst. She saw it whenever they met another witch and a quick cut of the eye effectively curtailed him but this was, of course, different. This was, Bonnie realized, a trust exercise.

"How long have you been planning this? she asked.

"A week. Or two." At her look Kai amended it to three. "But we have to do this at some point. You're a Bennett, I'm a Gemini, we swap fluids, why not this?"

"Because you have a history of doing really bad things to people who have magic."

"I know what I've done," he said, frustrated, "but I'm doing things differently now. And we can't have a relationship if you can't trust me to share something this fundamental to who we are."

When she didn't say anything he added, "Let the record reflect that I have zero confidence in winning over you in any sort of witch battle."

The ghost of a grin twitched her lips. "As long as you know."

She held his hands and closed her eyes. The spell flowed between them. It was complex, had a few redundant words of power, but it was a strong restorative, as were all incantations of the kind. Bonnie was impressed, and a little envious. Kai had a natural proficiency for magic whereas she had to work harder, study longer. Not to be outdone completely, she trimmed the spell and evened out the flow of power.

Kai opened an eye. "Did you just red pen my spell?"

"Lovingly," Bonnie replied. She inhaled deep and cleared her mind of everything but the words.

She expected pain but there was none. Her stomach lurched, like on a rollercoaster. She smelled electricity and her skin tingled. The words evaporated in a wave of disorientation, but she focused on the feel of his hands, dry and hot, and reformed them. There was a moment of sharp pain, then his power receded, and she floated in hers for a few seconds before exhaling and opening her eyes.

Kai appeared paler than usual, but he pinched her cheek and cooed at her like a total asshole so Bonnie knew he was fine.

"We forgot to put some sort of alert on it, to see if it worked," Bonnie said when he finished.

"Chatty Cathy is the only alert you need."

"I really wish you'd stop calling her that."

"I can be in the bathroom and still hear her yapping over the phone. Like, why won't Stefan do this one thing for me? Gah," Kai said. He had Caroline down to the frown and head shake.

Bonnie laughed. Kai drew her in and she lay against him, content. He twined his hand in hers. Something about the way he stroked her thumb told her he was being introspective.

"What is it?"

"This is the first time I've ever done something remotely nice for someone I actively want to kill." He pressed her knuckles to his mouth. "I wonder if it worked."

Bonnie shrugged. "Like you said, Chatty Cathy will alert us." She hoped Caroline would call. If it didn't work, there was nothing left to do but duck.

* * *

><p>Damon set down a mug of tea in front of Elena. He dipped a teaspoon in honey and drizzled it into the cup, gave it a quick swirl, and handed her the spoon.<p>

"You remembered," she said. She popped the spoon in her mouth.

"It's a detail that's hard to forget." He sat before his cup of coffee. The bowl of sugar cubes sat on her side.

"Sugar, sugar?" Damon asked. He held out his cup.

Elena picked up three sugar cubes and plopped them in. Damon returned her grin but didn't drink the coffee. She didn't notice the strain in his eyes, the slight deflation of his shoulders. Elena distracted was still more perceptive than the average human. Or maybe it was the Elena in love, infatuated, consumed who read him in a glance.

Damon studied her as she talked about her day. Make new memories. He must have been high off hope or something. He subverted all of her renewed low expectations of him by being himself, now, after all the 'being evil' shit and existential crises and concession speeches. He romanced her because he knew her, because every little thing she gave to him, every inch of herself she allowed him to see, he committed to perfect memory. He loved her because he had to fight for it. He loved her because falling in love with Elena was not easy. It was a torturous process of introspection and silences and erasing the need to humanity switches. It took time and context for him to be the man Elena loved so completely, his absence drove her to insanity. Love like that only happened once between two people. Love like that, once lost, was irrevocable.

"Damon? Are you okay?"

He blinked. Her forehead creased with worry. "I'm fine," he assured her, "no worries. Continue."

She looked skeptical but picked up where she left off. Damon maintained eye contact, nodded when he was supposed to, exclaimed in muted outrage when necessary, while thinking how utterly fucked up it was that he was in love with pre-neural cleanse Elena but also falling for post-Other Side Bonnie.

He watched Elena talk. Her eyes were bright, her smile the same cute smile, her mannerisms the same mannerisms. She moved and her hair shimmered in the afternoon light just like all the other times. Her voice had the same intonation, same melody, it even made him want to listen to her forever, like it used to. For all intents and purposes, Elena was Elena. But the more he looked at her, the more his chest burned, the more hopeless he felt.

The realization finally caught up to him. The Elena that fell in love with him, that blew his mind and broke his heart and managed to build him into a better man, was gone. He didn't want to start over. He wanted her back.

Damon shifted in his seat. And then there was Bonnie.

For the first time in decades, he had no idea what to do. She struck him deaf, dumb, and blind. He didn't know what to do, and it felt...good. Freeing. Everything seemed possible, even the most far-fetched, imbecilic, fantastical ideas. He had room to move and she did that for him. She cleared the world away.

He looked down at the cold coffee. He could sit here and play this out or he could move and ruin everything. Elena toyed with the handle of her mug, the curl of her ponytail shone a glossy brown against her arm. Forever or a moment?

Fuck it.

* * *

><p>The doorbell rang. Bonnie continued to chisel out the answer to a hellish physics problem. The door bell rang again, this time ten seconds longer.<p>

Bonnie looked up from her notebook. "Sam! The door!"

"I'm in the middle of a glamour!"

"And I'm in the middle of an exam review!"

"Your review will still be there, but will my nose?"

Loud, splintering knocks made Bonnie grip her pencil like a knife and stalk from the study to the door.

"If it's one of your boyfriends, I'm going to make a nose sprout from your chin,"Bonnie yelled.

"What?" Bonnie asked as she yanked open the door.

Elena stood on the porch, hair in an unraveling bun, eyes red, mouth in a straight line.

"Elena, what happened?" Bonnie asked. She reached to draw her inside but Elena shoved her away.

"Elena -"

"A lot of shit has happened, Bonnie." Elena wiped her face. "My memories of Damon are back."

"Okay," Bonnie was at a loss, "that's good, right? That's what you wanted."

"Yes. It was what I wanted. And now I want answers."

Bonnie shook her head. "I have no idea -"

"You and Damon. Sleeping together," Elena leaned close, "somehow, I don't remember that ever being a possibility."

Bonnie froze. She had a second to deny it, but what was the use? Only three people knew, and Kai wouldn't risk the evisceration. So it was Damon. The idiot. Bonnie sighed. He really knew how to ruin a good intention.

Elena dropped back. "So it's true."

Bonnie nodded. "It happened."

"When? Where? How long?"

"Does it matter? It happened. And it was wrong and I feel sick about it, we both do. But we've moved on from it and -"

"Stop lying to me," Elena yelled. "Stop," she whispered. She ran her hands over her face and hair.

"You're my best friend. You're the only one who I trust to tell me the truth. Isn't that sad?" Elena laughed. "You broke my heart and you're the only one who can give me the answers I need."

Bonnie looked at her friend. Answers would destroy Elena's illusion of who they were to each other. It required deep cuts, lots of blood loss, and fractures, but the appeal was stronger than the pretense of friendship.

Bonnie stepped aside to let Elena in.


	2. Rot

a/n: This is a disclaimer. This will not be nice and pretty and fluffy. There won't be any supernatural enemies, no outside Big Bads, no life or death situations. This is festering wounds and romantic entanglements and lots of gray. I'm not interested in determining who's the lesser evil, Kai or Damon. Kai kills people, and so does Damon. That's it. No one is better. This is my take on Bonnie returning, changing, and finally, living a complicated, messy, deservedly selfish life. So, please, if you feel like comparing Kai and Damon in a review, refrain. I know the same things you know. I just don't care.

Thank you, dear readers, for reviewing. Enjoy.

Present: Spring

Elena fixed a vacant stare on the garden beyond the bay window. Not a garden. A blooming patch of vibrant jades and lilacs and red poppies, dusky daffodils and wild pansies. She spotted lily-of-the-valley mixed with wolf's bane and purple verbena. A leafy branch of a flowering dogwood tree gently tapped the window as a gentle breeze carried the scent of gardenia and sweet basil and, underneath, the spice of lemongrass. A low whistle sounded.

For a moment, Elena could not differentiate the sound of the wind from that of the kettle. She had lost track of where she was, and why. For a moment, all that existed was the garden beyond the window, the silver sunlight filling the room, the rattle of the window, the smell of gardenia.

The door opened. Her eyes fell towards the shadow. She remembered now. She waited until Bonnie set the tea cup on the desk to look. She was on the other side, closing books and shuffling papers and screwing the caps on pens. Elena hoped she did this out of anxiety, to prolong the inevitable. And then she discovered she had forgotten what Bonnie did when she was nervous, even though she was sure knew all the other days before this one.

Bonnie caught her dazed look. Elena quickly reached for the tea. She forgot why Bonnie made it, but she drank it anyway. The last edge of hysteria smoothed into a clear, hard logic.

She looked at Bonnie over the rim of the teacup.

"Thanks."

Bonnie crossed her arms over the desk. "You're welcome."

They stared at each other. Elena still didn't believe it, yet it was true. It happened. She couldn't imagine Bonnie hurting her, never, it was inconceivable, but she said it happened. Elena set the cup down. It happened and now here she sat, in the chair they reupholstered together, on the brink of imploding the remaining pillar of her once normal life.

Should she go first? Bonnie waited. It was Elena who wanted answers, not Bonnie. Bonnie never asked questions, she never begged for explanations. Even when they were girls growing together, Bonnie either knew or didn't know.

Elena left the chair and went to the window. The sky was cornflower blue. The glass was warm from the sun. She wanted to be outside, in the tangle of the yard.

"This is the first time I've seen your garden."

"You're the first person to see it."

A dry grin reflected in the window. "Really."

"You said no more lies. So, no more illusions, no glamours."

Elena watched a bee, its fat body lazily buzzing from flower to flower. "Remember when you showed me you were a witch? You ripped open my pillow, dumped out the feathers and suspended them in the air."

"I remember."

"Was that the last time you were honest with me?"

"Is this what you want to do, pick over the past?"

Elena looked at her. "The past is all we have left."

Bonnie held her stare for a long second before looking away, towards the door. "The last time I was honest with you was when Grams died. It was too much to suddenly be alone, with all that power, so I started hiding. I started pretending to be strong." She grinned. "Fake it til you make it, right?"

A faint grin pulled at Elena's mouth. "You did a good job. I never suspected otherwise."

"That's why it was so easy for you to smile and laugh and comfort me while you fucked Damon," she said.

"I wasn't thinking about you, Elena -"

"-that's obvious-"

"I was thinking about what it would be like to give in, to do something unthinkable, to touch and be touched and not think about later or consequences or feelings. I didn't do it because I wanted to betray you, or because I held a grudge," Bonnie shrugged, "I did it for me. Because I didn't want to wonder what it would be like."

Elena waited for the anger to veer towards either tears or violence, but she remained at the window, eyes trained on Bonnie's face. She hated her, really and truly. Hated her for the ease in which she admitted destroying all her beliefs. Hated the helpless shrug of her shoulders, hated how the light hit her face and made her beautiful, actually. Above all, she hated the perfectly relatable explanation. That was how she felt about Damon, without all the angst.

She didn't come here to relate to Bonnie. She didn't come here for self-reflection. She came here to inflict damage, to make her feel like swallowing barbed wire. She grasped at a thought, one that made her palms sweat and her stomach twist.

"How many times did you sleep with him?"

"Once. Over the course of a weekend."

"So not once. How many times? Once a day?"

Bonnie inhaled. "We had sex six times over the course of one weekend."

"And before that? Any kisses? Groping?"

"A kiss. Quick, on the mouth, no heat."

Elena pressed her forehead to the window. It was warm. That was how they used to break down a kiss. Short, long, no air. On the cheek, on the mouth, tongue. Medium heat, ghost chili, soaked panties. They leapt from platonic peck to six times. Damon didn't do platonic. Bonnie didn't do Damon. But she did. Elena closed her eyes. _She did. She did. She did._

"After?"

There was a pause before Bonnie answered, "Twice. The first time we almost...the second time, we didn't."

"Recently?"

"This morning."

Elena laughed. "Wow." She pushed off the window and looked to Bonnie. "Did he pick you up, press you into the wall, slip his fingers into your underwear?"

"Enough," Bonnie said, standing. "You're a lot of things, Elena, but vulgar isn't one of them."

"Would it be less vulgar if I said it in Latin, whispered it like some fucking spell?"

"Fine. Yes. Yes. We screwed, and yes, it was mindblowing, and yes, I sucked him off and yes, he went down on me and no, it was all raw and hard and -"

She slapped her before she even thought about it. Bonnie caught herself before she fell back into the chair. A spasm of pain rippled across her brain. Elena stumbled into a shelf, knocking loose an avalanche of books.

When Elena looked up, Bonnie stood over her. She had a stillness in her face that reminded Elena of a vampire just before the kill.

"The next time won't be so gentle," Bonnie said.

Sitting there in a heap, anger and sadness choking her, Elena believed her. The Bonnie she grew up with, the Bonnie that gave selflessly, was gone.

Bonnie bent to pick up and put back the fallen books. Elena stood, moved to help, thought better of it, and took a seat in the armchair. Tears welled as she watched Bonnie work. Grief struck her hard. She pressed her eyes to stop the tears. How did it come to this? She didn't even touch Damon, although she wanted to. She wanted to punch a hole through his chest. She never though about hitting Bonnie and yet her cheek was red and bruising.

She heard a latch squeak, a soft clatter, and a cool, strongly scented breeze entered the room. Elena removed her hands. She sat quietly for several minutes, listening. Someone was in the shower upstairs. Someone was in the living room, watching the news and scraping butter on toast. Someone just closed the front door, keys jingling, footsteps hurrying to the study door.

A light knock. "Bonnie?" It was Kai.

"I'm studying for a final." Bonnie's voice was clear, and close. The chair rolled towards the desk.

"Okay." He sighed. "Are you okay?"

Elena opened her eyes to see Bonnie staring at her. "I'm fine. I think Sam might need some help with a glamour."

Kai grumbled something too low for even her hearing and continued down the hall. They were alone again.

Bonnie pressed her hands together. "Anything else you would like to know?"

Anything else? Elena didn't know. She had a headache, and healing made her hungry, and hunger plus confusion plus heartache made her tired.

"I can't think," Elena touched her temples, "I need to rest."

Bonnie gestured towards the door. "We can finish tomorrow. Or after you have fed."

Elena shifted sideways in the armchair, feet dangling over the arm rest, head tucked into the wing. "No. Not yet. I just need to sleep," she said, shutting her eyes.

She heard her name as an exasperated sigh, then she heard nothing but the flapping of wings and wind rustling the grasses.

* * *

><p>Kai examined the nose. It was hooked, bumpy, with a wart on the end. It was also hanging off Sam's chin. The place where his nose should be consisted of two holes. Somehow this was the least disconcerting problem Kai had to deal with this morning. He frowned at the nose.<p>

"Oh, God, please don't tell me this is permanent."

"What? Oh," Kai waved a hand, "it's not a strong curse. Best thing to do is to let it dissipate naturally."

"And how long will that take?"

"I would raincheck any dates you had tonight with Tom, Dick, or Harry."

Sam made a face. "Very cute. Only one dick tonight, fyi." He touched the nose and shuddered. "Can't you just flex your muscle and lift the curse?"

Kai smiled. "No Magic Mondays. Sorry."

"I'm sure," Sam said. He wrapped a scarf around half his face and put on a pair of oversized shades.

"So," Sam turned to him, "what did you do?"

Kai lifted an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Bonnie would have never done that if she wasn't agitated by something, and the only something capable of agitating her is you. So," Sam crossed his arms, "what did you do?"

Kai threw his head back with a sigh. "This time it wasn't me. But maybe it was. I don't know."

"Ahem."

A bong floated before Kai's eyes.

"I think you need a session."

Kai wrinkled his nose. "Did you clean out the bowl? 'Cause I don't want a disappear for two hours."

"No worries," Sam shook a baggie, "Fresh, old school weed."

They assumed their customary positions by the window. Sam took the first hit, then passed it over.

"Now that we're comfortable, tell me what's on your mind."

Kai blew out the smoke and watched it fade into the air. "I went to the market, purchased some raspberries."

"And?"

"You know that vampire, Damon Salvatore? I stopped by his place."

Smoke sputtered from Sam's mouth. He snatched the bong from Kai and set it on the ground.

"You said we wouldn't interfere in vampire business."

"Relax. It was personal. Nothing happened."

"Right," Sam straightened the scarf. "Nothing happened but here you are, frowning and distracted."

Kai stared out the window. The weed started to loosen the control he had on his thoughts. The filter disengaged. He thought about getting angry, this was some magic herb stuff, but then it felt too heavy. He sank against the wall and placed his chin on the window sill.

"I was on my way back from the market when I thought, 'Did it work? I hope it worked.' You know I can't stand not knowing. So I went there, to that house. I knew where he'd be. The kitchen. He was alone, his back to the windows. He stood at the table, staring ahead at what, I couldn't figure out, but I knew something had happened. Something that made him stand so still, as though he was afraid movement would break him. You know what I thought, in that moment?"

Kai inhaled a spring breeze laden with lilac and the sweet fragrance of poisonous plants. "Finally. I can kill him. His guard was destroyed. I had done it. Moved everyone so cleverly and left him exposed. I can finally kill him."

Sam picked up the bong and carefully added more grass to the bowl. He took a long hit and held the smoke for as long as he could before exhaling it in a pattern of rings. "Did you do it?" he asked when the last ring vanished.

Kai glanced at him. "That's the wrong question to ask."

"It's the only question that matters. Did you do it?"

Kai looked at his hands. "No. I left. I did enough."

Sam passed the bong. Kai held it for several seconds before bring the mouthpiece to his lips.

"You should have killed him. You'll always wonder about them," Sam said.

Kai grinned. "You always know more than you let on." They shared a small smile before Kai turned his attention to beyond the window.

"We shared power today. It was...amazing. She's better than she thinks."

"She trusts you."

"I know," Kai closed his eyes, "that's why I couldn't do it."

* * *

><p>Bonnie pressed 'Ignore' for the fifth time. She didn't bother listening to the voicemails. He didn't need to warn her, or ask her, or tell her. While Elena slept, Bonnie stared at his contact info. She thumbed through pictures of them, emails they sent, all the electronic mementos of their time together. She tried to commit them to memory but what was the use? She was human, more human than the rest of them, and she would forget, in time, what he looked like with shades on, how corny his emails could be, what she looked like when she stood next to him.<p>

She erased his words first, then his number, then his profile. The pictures, last. She lingered on the final photograph. It was a silly one of him cuddling a rabbit, ring pops on his fingers, flashing a gold grill smile. She couldn't stop laughing that day.

Bonnie deleted it, then did a hard reset of her phone. It was done and she hoped to feel relief, but anger came instead.

Elena began to stir. Bonnie watched her. Never, not once during their friendship, did she resent Elena. Their bond transcended that of friendship to sisterhood. They would do anything for each other. Nothing stood between them, not even death. Everything she had, Grams, a mother, a father, love, power, dreams, hope, was given in service to that bond. It became the only thing she had left, and even that wasn't strong enough to pull her out of purgatory.

Bonnie wondered if it was ever strong, if all that tethered them together was her belief in them. Elena stretched, the sunlight slanted across her face. Bonnie could see why so much had been sacrificed in her name. Elena had effortless, innate beauty. She was good, she cared, she cried. Like a rose, she smelled sweet. And like a rose, sweetness rotted.

Brown eyes blinked open, dazed. They swept the room once, then rested on Bonnie. They blanked as they took in the state of her cheek. Bonnie remembered then the tenderness, the blood she swallowed. She felt it fresh, but this time it stung all the way down to the very nerves of her spine.

"Until fifteen minutes ago I thought something could be salvaged," Bonnie said.

Elena swallowed, stiffened. "I didn't want to."

"Yet you did." Bonnie leaned back into the chair. "What is left to destroy, Elena? The past is gone, the future nonexistent, and the present," Bonnie lifted her hands, "is just a waste of time. So what more can I do for you?"

Elena leaned forward onto her elbows. She searched the carpet for an answer.

"Tell me what happened after you came back," Elena whispered.

"Why?"

"Because," Elena rubbed her face, "because I didn't come here because of Damon. Not really. I came here because the Bonnie I know, the Bonnie I love wouldn't do that. Not to herself. Not when she knew it would only break her heart."

Bonnie sat dumbfounded for a moment. "Are you really that blind, Elena? God," she stood. "I guess Damon neglected to inform you."

She came out from behind the desk and stood before Elena. "That Bonnie never came back from 1994. That Bonnie is dead."


	3. Mask

A/N: Really didn't want to since I'm allergic to TVD right now, but then I thought: why not tell the story I want to see? So enjoy, dear readers, and thanks for all the love.

* * *

><p>Past: Winter<p>

They returned on the last night of snowfall. The snow was thick on the ground, the night air crisp and stinging. Bonnie huddled in the crypt doorway, peering out into the woods with strange, silent eyes.

She pulled the coat closer about her. Damon had prepared well. A parka, thermals, a balaclava, a scarf, even a beanie. She was sufficiently warm, but still she shivered. Perhaps it was the experience of being yanked from perpetual warmth to cold desolation. Perhaps it was the quiet they brought with them from 1994. Perhaps she was just tired. She didn't know. She shivered despite being warm.

Damon was in a corner, angling for reception. The witch he used had left, probably anticipating the snowstorm, and in his haste, he only gave Stefan a vague determination of when he'd be back. Bonnie maintained her quiet observation as he told her without actually telling her. The phone buzzed. He climbed onto a crumpling seat and faced the ceiling.

"Hello? Stef? Where are you?"

Bonnie turned back to the woods. She tried to think of what to when she got to Mystic, where she'd go first, what hot food she'd eat, but the snow and the cold and the dark trunks of trees filled her thoughts. She saw herself sinking and rising, sinking and rising, waves of white rolling towards her and beyond, the frigid wind licking the warmth from her body, the stark trees crowding her in.

"He stalled five miles outside Whitmore," Damon said as he joined her in the doorway. He pulled his coat tighter. "Said he's working on it but the roads are bad and Caroline's no help. Looks like we'll have to wait for morning."

"No," Bonnie answered. She looked at him. His mouth twitched in surprise.

"No," Damon repeated. He nodded. "Of course. She doesn't speak for four hours and when she does, it's in the negative."

Four hours. Really, Bonnie hadn't spoken in two weeks. Why, when she didn't need to? No one to answer to, no one to question, no sound except for her own thoughts, and they were loud enough.

He waited several seconds before asking, "And why not?"

Because she had been searching, listening, hoping for footsteps crunching the snow, muttered voices, a flashlight, watery brown eyes, a wordless embrace. Because she came back, waiting. Waiting and waiting and waiting while cold sucked her dry. Because no more waiting. No more wishing and hoping and waiting for the sun.

Bonnie blew hot air into her cupped palms. "We can hike back to Mystic Falls. It's just ten miles to the edge of your property, right?"

Damon frowned. "Uh, you realize this isn't some spring shower going on. Your feet will break off a mile in."

"Cold doesn't bother me," Bonnie shouldered her pack. She pulled the toggles on her parka and stretched.

"Does hypothermia? Death?"

"Damon," she looked at him, "the only thing bothering me is waiting for rescue when I could rescue myself."

When he continued to scowl, she looked off in the direction of home. "I'll see you back in Mystic Falls."

Bonnie stepped out into a blast of icy wind. She kept her shoulder up, and didn't stumble when her foot sunk up to mid-calf. She focused, kept her pace moderate. She didn't feel his touch on her arm until he squeezed.

He pointed a flashlight ahead and they continued. After some yards Bonnie reached for the flashlight and clicked it off. Damon looked at her from under the hood of his coat. He arched an eyebrow in anger. Bonnie only marched on.

He followed, anger building at her stupidity, her intractability, her refusal to properly cinch the straps of that stupid pack she brought from The Other Side. He purposefully let his internal compass spin, hoping they got lost so he could rebuke her. He had a whole paragraph of angry words for her, starting on her insane martyrdom complex to her lack of gratitude to this latest evidence of severe mental lapse. He had it trimmed down to two sentences when the wind suddenly dropped off.

Bonnie paused. The silence was startling. The snow seemed to fall in slow motion. She gazed up at the night sky. The clouds broke apart, revealing the hard glitter of stars. For a moment, the world seemed beautifully surreal.

She turned to him. He already had his eyes on her, and they were of the same brightness as the starlight. An urge to tell him her thoughts overcame her.

"This is the lifting of a spell," Bonnie said. She closed her eyes and inhaled. "The end of a curse. This is the world after a long dream."

"This is magic," Damon said.

She opened her eyes. The beauty faded. Magic. Her skin prickled at the knowledge. Heavy magic.

Damon scanned the woods, then looked at her again. "Did you do it?"

"No," Bonnie turned from him, "but whoever did is gone. The power is receding."

"How can you tell?"

"I don't know," Bonnie resumed walking, "how do you tell blood types apart?"

"The taste."

He walked next to her now, close enough for the fabric of their parkas to brush.

"No, because you are a vampire."

Damon only sniffed. The silence stretched. Bonnie tried to think of what she'd do when she returned to Mystic Falls, who she wanted to see first, where she'd go, but the crunch of snow and the sting of cold pressed, and the yards turned to a mile, then to two, then three, and so on.

"That was some poetry back there," Damon said.

Bonnie glanced at him. "Back where?"

"'The lifting of a spell, the end of a curse'," he intoned.

"Those things did happen."

"Yes, but you didn't know. You weren't scared. You were enraptured."

"Was I?" Bonnie couldn't recall how she felt. It seemed far from her. "Maybe I did know, but knowing hadn't caught up to reason."

Damon groaned. "God, you know, I actually hate that I missed your philosophical bullshit."

"It only comes out around you for some reason."

They made faces at each other before quiet settled between them. Six miles. Seven miles.

"You never asked about being a vampire before."

Weariness cracked her voice. "I never had time to think about it."

"So you thought about me?"

She heard the playful arrogance, but disregarded it. "Every single day since I first met you, I've thought of you."

Being so tired, she didn't dare do more than walk forward, so she imagined his eyebrows pinching together, his mouth agape in a silent question. It amused her.

"I thought about you more after you left. I even cried once because I missed you. I thought it was because I just missed having someone around more miserable than myself, but no, it was because I missed your voice, and your nagging, and all the annoying crap you do."

She stopped to adjust her bag but couldn't catch the straps. Damon came around to do it for her.

"You must be really shocked," Bonnie said. She stared at the black teeth of his parka's zipper. He tugged on strap. "Before you, I never knew fear. Or hatred. I thought I knew anger, but then you came. You came with all these things I never experienced, and ever since they have been on my mind, in my life, a part of me."

The strap over her left shoulder tightened. "And then you were gone. And I had more to fear, more time to hate, more anger to feel. I realized then how important you were."

The other strap tightened to a painful degree but Bonnie was too tired to exclaim. She had been on for six days straight and ate only two of those days. She had forgotten that here, in this world, she was human. She wanted to sleep. That was what she would do when she returned. Rest, turn off the thoughts and rest.

Her eyes swam. She had the curious sensation of passing through something, of falling a short way for a long time.

"Bonnie," Damon said. He was far away.

"Yes? I'm here."

He sighed. "Poor timing, Bennett."

She didn't know what he meant. And then she heard her name echoing through the air in a distinct, near hysterical pitch that only came from one person.

Bonnie turned. They appeared out of the dark, running across the field, eyes wet, laughing, overjoyed. In the second before they descended on her, before the force of their relief made her stagger, dread consumed her. She took a step back, into Damon, but Caroline clung to her and Elena enveloped the two of them. They squeezed so tight, Bonnie struggled to breathe, they were so happy, so relieved, and tears moistened her cheeks, but they were not hers, none of it was hers.

* * *

><p>Bonnie wiped the steam from the mirror and looked at herself. She heard murmuring, pots clanking in the kitchen sink. Two days back and the only moments of solitude were when she slept, which she didn't do, and when she shut herself in the bathroom, which lasted fifteen minutes before Caroline came knocking.<p>

Two days back and the dread hadn't dulled. It prevented her from eating, from unpacking, from visiting the lake and the dorms and the Grille and the Manor, from answering texts and calls, from listening to the backlog of voicemails. She didn't speak unless to answer simple questions. She didn't cry at all.

She looked at her reflection. The mask still didn't look right. It was supposed to be a little pensive, a little faltering, always on the verge of collapse, always ready to smile despite the fact. Bonnie tried to pull her mouth into something other than a line but it looked even worse. She had to try today, though. Today was a reintroduction to living.

Bonnie practised for ten minutes, then put on her clothes and waited for the knock.

It was light on the door. Bonnie inhaled and stepped out into the hall.

Caroline frowned at her clothes. "Those pants are killing me. What are they, velvet?"

Bonnie happened to like them, that and the flannel and the leather jacket and the no make-up. But what she liked was not what Caroline remembered her liking, so she sighed and pulled at the fabric.

"It was the only thing I had on hand that fits."

Caroline gave her a sympathetic grin. "Well, Elena put your clothes in storage. We can stop by, dig out some leggings and other 21st century gear."

"You are cramming the day full of errands," she said as they walked down the hall to the kitchen.

"Oh, and tonight we're having dinner. All of us. At Stefan's."

"Oh, me too? How sweet," Sheriff Forbes said. She gave Bonnie a hug. "Feeling better?"

Bonnie nodded and saw a plate of eggs and toast reserved for her at the table. She'd have to eat more than toast this morning. "Much better, thanks."

She took a seat at the table while Caroline and Sheriff Forbes moved about the kitchen, preparing for the day.

"Of course you too. All of us is all of us," Caroline said, peering in the refrigerator.

"Honey, as much as I'd love to be the oldest person at this dinner, I have four files to close before the weekend."

"That's why you have deputies, a.k.a. lackeys."

"Caroline, it's-how many times have I told you not to drink it right out of the bag?"

Bonnie stopped pushing her eggs around to see Sheriff Forbes snatch the bloodbag from Caroline's lips and hand her a glass. She rolled her eyes and poured the blood into the glass.

"Look, random-stranger-that-will-walk-into-our-kitchen, I'm drinking tomato juice without the celery stick," Caroline said.

"Ha," Sheriff Forbes pulled on her jacket. Bonnie almost didn't catch it.

"Alright, I'm off," Liz kissed Caroline's cheek and gave Bonnie's shoulder a light squeeze. "See you girls when I get home."

"Technically you won't be the oldest person at dinner," Caroline called after her. She lingered in the entryway, worry quickly replacing lightheartedness.

Bonnie looked at her friend. She thought of the slight misstep Liz took, the wince as she put on her coat. There were other signs too. Baggy clothes, the rattle of pills in the morning and at night, the quick obedience from Caroline.

She ate a forkful of eggs, swallowed, and said, "What's going on?"

Caroline whirled around, a bright smile on her face. "With what?"

Bonnie held her gaze for a second before biting off a piece of toast. "With you and Stefan."

Caroline widened her eyes in feigned innocence. "Me and Stefan? I have no idea."

"So you're confused?"

"No," Caroline laughed, "no, I mean, we're good. Now. We're really good now, better. In a good place. As good friends."

Bonnie nodded. "That's...good."

"I'm serious. I have no idea what you're implying," she said. She fidgeted with the glass. "Why? Did you hear something or…?"

"Well," Bonnie finished the toast and took her plate to the sink, "what used to be that 'Black hole of horror' is now, in the gentlest of tones, 'Stefan's place'."

Caroline drained the rest of the blood. "Stefan's done a really good job renovating it, so."

Bonnie grinned. "If you say so."

She ran out the kitchen and up the stairs. "I'll get a jacket and we can dip."

"Oh my God, you have got to stop with the lingo!"

Instead of going to the guest room Bonnie went to bathroom. She splashed her face with hot water. The sting lessened the sudden numbness in her cheeks. Her reflection smiled back at her despite the shimmer of tears. Caroline would never lie to her, not about her mother's illness, not about Stefan.

Bonnie splashed her face again. The water scalded her fingers, cheeks, lips. She saw herself clearly in the mirror and recognized the face staring back. It was the same face, same head on the same body, but who looked out had changed, who looked out knew where the lies would lead, where they always led. But things were different now.

She turned off the faucet and dried her face. The dread coiled tightly in her stomach. She left the bathroom and retrieved her jacket, slinging it on as she came down the stairs.

Caroline stood at the door. "Ready?"

Bonnie nodded before stepping out into the cold, hard brightness of living.

* * *

><p>They surprised her with people crowding the foyer and lining the staircase. A banner hung from the ceilings. A chorus of voices sang, 'Welcome Home, Bonnie'. Music half-swallowed greetings from familiar strangers, strangers, and friends. They clumped around her, talking and laughing and shaking hands and hugging. The air grew warmer as the party grew louder, and everyone had shed their jacket except for Bonnie.<p>

She kept it on as she weaved through the crowd. Someone pressed a bottle into her hand - Matt.

"Hey," genuine pleasure lit her face, "I missed you."

Matt hugged her, lifting her a little off the floor. "I probably missed you more. It's hard being the only sane one in Mystic Falls," he said, setting her down.

She squeezed his arms and took a step back. Matt seemed taller, more physically imposing, older. The sunny smile had been replaced by a wary grin. His dry eyes looked at her as though there were no surprises left.

"You've always been the only sane one, Matt," Bonnie said.

"Doubtful." He held up his bottle of hard cider. "Cheers to you coming back."

They clinked and drank.

"I gotta go, I only stayed so long to see you," Matt said.

"Go where?"

"Training." Matt laughed when he saw her frown, confused. "Swing by the Sheriff's office tomorrow night and you'll see what I mean."

He gave her a quick peck on the cheek before parting through the crowd. Matt Donovan, enigma, Bonnie thought. Who would have thought? She grinned and continued towards the back of the house. She dodged Tyler and Liv, snuck past Caroline, and used a lacrosse player as an invisibility cloak to avoid Damon and Elena to finally make it out to the back veranda.

This what was Bonnie wanted most. Quiet and cold. The stars shone like beaded water. One shake and they'd fall onto the empty yard. She leaned against the railing and looked at the sky, the party thrown for her going on without her.

"Stargazing is best on a night like this."

Bonnie didn't need to look. Being alone attuned her to certain things, the most prominent of them magic. She heard its note in her head the moment she returned to the living world. Sometimes it faded beneath her heartbeat, other times it rang like a distant bell. This time the perception was different. Magic flowed like a current around her, over her. A practiced witch. It reminded her of the last run-in she had with a witch, except this magic was palliative instead of bruising.

"It's more interesting than people watching," Bonnie said.

"Yes, especially when said people are noisy twenty-somethings with an appetite for craft beer."

Bonnie looked over to the woman standing next to her. "You're Kai's sister. Jo. The one who survived."

Jo smiled. "And you're Sheila's granddaughter. Bonnie. The one who also survived."

"You knew my Grams?"

Jo nodded. "She saved me."

Bonnie swallowed a mouthful of cider. "By creating a cosmic prison for your psychotic brother?"

"No, by showing me that I'm more than my magic." Jo leaned on the railing. "I never thought I could be normal, not after what Kai did, but I was. I went to school, became a doctor, a teacher, helped people. Without magic." Jo sighed. "I actually liked being a normal person for fifteen years. It was fun."

"Well, that's the Bennett gift," Bonnie looked at her, "we give other people a chance at being normal for awhile before reality catches up."

She finished her drink. "Who sent you out here? Elena, Damon?"

"Alaric. He thought you might need someone who's been through what-"

"No," Bonnie cut her off, "No one has been through what I've been through."

They looked at each other for a moment. Jo's sympathy nauseated her. A litany of terrible things came to mind, things she could say to send Jo back to their prying eyes, face blanched and eyes wide with angry fear. Bonnie looked away.

"I appreciate the offer, but right now I just want to breathe without having to rehash the past, or discuss my feelings, or work through trauma. Is that okay with you?"

"Yes, of course," Jo placed a hand on Bonnie's shoulder, "whenever you need to talk, I'm around."

Bonnie exhaled when the hand lifted from her shoulder. She sagged against the railing when Jo went back into the house. Alaric sent her out here? Damon, probably. Or Elena. Bonnie felt the questions hanging in the air every time a second of silence happened between them. She wished Elena would just ask instead of pulling her strings. Well, Bonnie hugged herself against the cold, that response should stop any more therapy sessions for the next few months.

She cast an absent glance over the dark field. Her gaze stopped on a figure walking steadily towards the house. She recognized the gait before his face. He approached and her heart thudded with a stab of pain.

They stared at each other for a long minute. Then she was off the porch and his arms wrapped around her, his warmth and his scent and the feel of his lips over hers - Jeremy overwhelmed her senses. Bonnie floated in him, in the memory he provoked.

And for awhile, it was enough to forget who she had become.

* * *

><p>From the tree line the house blazed with light. If he chose, a different, hotter light could swallow up all that Southern charm. But destruction wasn't the purpose for his late-night tripping through the woods. He wanted to see her, among her friends, see what she would do now that she had returned.<p>

Two days of lurking produced not a inkling of change. Still the staid, quiet, broken young woman he screwed over months ago. The only interesting tweak was the preference for dark colors and leather jackets and boots. She wore dark well. As much as he admired the shift in dress, he was a little desperate for something more...shattering. A total breakdown. A penchant for dangerous situation, an explosive fight between life-long friends, a trip to the dark side of magic.

But no, none of that. She had stepped back into the groove of old, down to the same pensive look whenever someone hinted at the supernatural. He almost decided to show his hand, force a reaction, but then gang threw a surprise party and he knew. Something would happen. Something would break.

So he waited. He watched. He saw the tiny cracks in her mask for the first time as she tried to act surprised and grateful. He He listened to Jo putting on her Big Sister pants and laughed when she was rebuffed. He stood there with her in the aftermath, wondering which way she would go now that she showed a very un-Bonnie side to her friends, if she would stop pretending and start burning everything to the ground.

And then the guy.

He knew she loved someone. He knew she was loved. He just forgot, like she did. He watched them kissing, practically devouring each other, tripping over the ground to find a secluded area, their breaths rising like clouds. The impulse to destroy something came again, except this time he wanted an implosion.

Well, Kai turned into the woods, he was never averse to a good burn.


End file.
